


Feels Like Reckless Driving When We're Talking

by Chash



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Age Swap, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-26 14:59:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19008151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: Clarke isn't planning to go out for her thirty-fourth birthday, but Murphy and Emori show up to babysit her daughter and drag her to a bar, respectively, and it's hard to argue with that kind of pre-mediated meddling. And because she's not planning that, she's not planning for anything that comes after, the cute (younger) guy who wants to buy her a drink, the fact that he wants to take her home, the fact that she wants to let him.She's not planning on Bellamy Blake at all.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hey y'all I was on my honeymoon for two weeks it was great and now I'm back with some age swap fic! Clarke is a thirty-four, Bellamy is twenty-six, everyone is legal but Clarke does fret about being older than he is and being at different points in their lives etc etc spoilers it will work out, but if this is not your vibe, please be aware
> 
> even though this is about a one-night stand there is no explicit sex BUT there will be a second chapter and I think it will have explicit sex? I'm still writing it we'll find out
> 
> anyway expect that in a few days I hope

Clarke finds out she's celebrating her thirty-fourth birthday when Murphy and Emori show up at her apartment and Emori says, "We're going out."

Clarke toys with but ultimately rejects the idea of slamming the door in their faces. "Where?" she asks instead. 

"Bar."

"Should I get Madi? Is she coming with us?"

Emori gives her a patient look. Clarke has never been good at making friends and has only gotten steadily worse at it since breaking up with Lexa five years ago, so it's kind of a minor miracle that Emori is even trying to drag her out. Clarke mostly thinks of her as a buy one, get one free friend, someone tossed in with Murphy whether she actually liked Clarke or not. "That's why John is here," she says. "He's taking Madi for the evening, and you're coming out with me."

Clarke raises her eyebrows at Murphy, and he shrugs. "I figure the kid could use some actual fun in her life."

"I'm fun."

"You're fighting with us because we want you to do something for your birthday."

 _Fighting_ seems like a strong word, but saying that would probably cross the line into actually fighting with them and ruin the whole thing, so she turns her attention back to Emori. "You don't have to do this," she says. " I appreciate it, but--"

"I don't mind," she says. "I'd be at the bar tonight either way, it's just whether I go with you or John."

Madi is of course thrilled at the prospect of spending the evening with Murphy, mostly because every story Clarke tries to tell about him as a cautionary tale turns into Madi liking him more, so once that offer has been made, there's no getting out of it. Madi will spend the night with a terrible influence and Clarke will spend it trying to drink enough that she won't worry Murphy will somehow burn down his own house.

"I didn't know you two were so worried about me," she offers, as Emori drives them over to whatever bar she's selected.

"Not worried, just--John mentioned it was your birthday and we tried to remember the last time you'd taken the night off. Neither of us could."

Getting pregnant at twenty-two is the kind of thing that does that to a person; aside from Lexa, she hasn't had a serious relationship since Finn, and she hasn't really had time to look for one either. If she and Finn--or even she and Lexa--had worked out, it would be a different story, but if it had worked out with either of them, she wouldn't need to go out, not like Emori means. People in relationships are rarely told they need to get out more, even if they do.

"It's been a while," she tells Emori, like it's news to her and not a deliberate choice.

"We're happy to help out sometimes. She's a great kid. John adores her."

"She loves him too, despite my best efforts."

Emori grins. "That's how we all feel about John."

The bar she takes Clarke to is crowded, but not overwhelming, the kind of place where people seem more interested in hanging out than hooking up. There are groups of people talking and drinking, but it's not too dark and not too sketchy, and the cute twenty-something bartender doesn't even seem to be getting hit on too much.

And clearly knows Emori, given she greets her with a smile and, "Hey, where's your worse half?"

"Babysitting. This is Clarke, it's her birthday."

The bartender sizes her up. "Happy birthday. First drink on the house."

Clarke may have given up on going out, but she's still a pretty regular drinker, albeit mostly wine after Madi goes to sleep. And she knows a good deal when she sees it. "Any drink?"

The bartender snorts. "I'm not giving you top-shelf whiskey, but a beer or a shot or a cocktail with my cheap booze? Sure."

"Long Island iced tea?"

"That works."

Emori orders a beer and gets that first, goes off to check in with some friends, which is fine by Clarke. She needs to ease into this socialization thing, and spending too much time with Emori always makes her feel a little antsy. They're not really that close.

Then again, maybe Emori knows her better than she realized. After all, she's knocking the birthday thing out of the park so far, up to and including giving Clarke some space.

The bartender slides Clarke her drink. "So, Clarke. Can I ask what birthday it is?"

"Thirty-four."

It feels like an anti-climactic birthday, which most of them do at this point. Thirty was big, and thirty-five will probably feel like something of a milestone too, but the in-between years just kind of happen. And they all feel like placeholders until forty.

"I didn't get your name," she adds to the bartender, the rudeness setting in a little late.

"Gina."

They chat off and on as Clarke nurses her drink and Gina serves other patrons. Emori pops back in from time to time, checking in, making sure Clarke doesn't want to play darts or dance or anything, but Clarke's enjoying just existing without any obligations. She's pleasantly loose from the drink and not even that worried about Madi. Even if Murphy can't take care of her, she can take care of herself.

She's watching Emori destroy someone at pool when a guy says, "Can I buy you a drink?"

Clarke had seen him earlier, stopping by the bar, flirting with Gina in the easy, unconscious way attractive guys can. She hadn't wanted to pay too much attention to him, wouldn't have wanted him to notice her noticing him, but now that he's talking to her, she figures she's allowed to check him out a little. He's young, for one thing, definitely not thirty and maybe not even twenty-five. His hair is black and curly, arranged in a carefully unruly style he probably worked on for a while. His bronze skin is dotted with freckles and he's got a pair of thick-framed hipster glasses he may or may not actually need perched on his nose.

It's less that Clarke thinks he's out of her league and more that she doesn't really think they're in the same league. In the thirty-plus, single mom demographic, she thinks she's actually pretty attractive, but this guy is playing in the athletic twenty-something group, and she's a lot less competitive there.

"I'm celebrating my thirty-fourth birthday," she tells him, in case he was just underestimating her age.

He doesn't miss a beat. "Sounds like a good reason to let me buy you a drink."

Clarke had her Long Island iced tea and a beer, but she also had some fries, and it's been over an hour. Another drink isn't going to knock her out. "I could drink another beer."

"Cool." He waves to Gina and she nods. "I'm Bellamy, by the way."

"Clarke."

"I haven't seen you here before."

"Are you the official welcoming committee?"

His mouth twists up, but he looks amused, not annoyed. "Or I'm making conversation. What are you having?" he adds, once Gina's made her way back over.

"Another of these," she says, holding up her empty pint glass.

"Two of those," says Bellamy. "Thanks."

"Do you know Emori?"

"The one with the dickhead boyfriend?"

Clarke has to smile. "I went to college with her dickhead boyfriend."

"Then you definitely need a drink."

"You got the part where college was twelve years ago, right?"

"I got the part where you're still hanging out with him."

"He grows on you."

"You say that, but I don't see him here."

For a second, she toys with the idea of not telling him, but if he is flirting with her, and knowing Madi exists will stop him flirting, she wants to know that. "He's watching my daughter so Emori could drag me here for my birthday."

"No spouse to watch her for you?" he asks, and she gives him a point for the gender-neutral language. "Or other partner."

"Nope."

"No one better than Murphy?"

"My daughter likes him."

"Well, kids have shitty taste."

He says it so easily that she chokes on her beer; he's not _wrong_ , but she's also a little surprised how right he is. "You know a lot of kids?"

He shrugs. "I don't know. A decent amount? I know I didn't approve of pretty much anyone my little sister liked."

What she really wants to ask is how old _he_ is, but it feels weirdly rude, and a little patronizing. He's clearly old enough to both drink and consent to sex, so it's his call if he wants to hit on her. And she doesn't even know if he actually wants to hook up yet. Granted, buying someone a drink isn't exactly unambiguous, but he could have changed his mind.

So she makes conversation, careful and curious, trying to figure him out. She still doesn't ask for his age, but she gets enough context clues to place him at over twenty-four; he's out of college, working to complete a master's that comes with professional certification with the goal of becoming a school librarian. He's young, but not illegally so, and maybe not even unrealistically so. If he just wants someone to take home tonight, she probably seems like an easy target, and all the things she thinks of as red flags probably are bonuses. Maybe he thinks she's desperate and flattered by the attention.

It's an uncharitable read of a guy who has been by all outward appearances nothing but open and interested in her, but it's been a very long time since she's tried navigating this. She doesn't know where to start, but she started anyway, and now it's as if she's marooned in an open sea, desperately searching for land.

Emori comes by and says hello without any apparent tension, and she and Bellamy chat about Emori's job and how Murphy may or may not owe Bellamy money, and she kind of raises her eyebrows at Clarke, checking in, but if she's not worried, Clarke isn't going to make a big deal of it. If Emori thought this was a problem, she'd find a way to let Clarke know Bellamy is bad news.

Still, when he's in the bathroom and Gina is passing by, Clarke flags her down. "Do you know that guy very well?"

"Bellamy? Yeah."

"He's a regular?"

"He's my ex-boyfriend."

If Clarke ran into either of her exes in a bar, she'd leave as quickly as possible. Serving them drinks while they flirted with someone else sounds like something she would come up with in a stress dream, if not an actual nightmare.

Gina seems to get that, because she smiles, a little sheepishly. "In a good way."

"What's a good way to be your ex?"

"He said he wasn't sure he had time for a relationship, but we figured we'd give it a try. He couldn't make it work, we called it, we're still friends. He's definitely the best ex I've got."

"And he's still too busy to date?"

"I'm not sure, I'm seeing someone else now." She smirks. "So if you're asking for my blessing--"

"I'm just trying to figure out what's happening here."

The smirk melts into sympathy. "He thinks you're cute and if you want to go home with him, he'll say yes. If you want more than just a night--"

"No," she says, quick. "I don't even know if I want a night."

Gina shrugs. "Your call. But I'll vouch for him. Both as a good guy and a good lay."

Bellamy comes back and slides into his seat, and Clarke lets herself look again, this time focusing on the parts of him that make her stomach swoop with possibility, his broad shoulders and firm chest, the hugeness of his hands as he holds his beer. He _is_ hot, and nothing Gina said gave her any reason to doubt her own impression of him as a decent guy and a decent prospect.

She could totally go home with him.

"So, can I ask about your daughter?" he says, once she's explained what she does and they're looking for something else to talk about.

"Depends on what you're asking."

"How old is she?"

"Eleven."

"So you were pretty young when you had her."

"Yeah." She taps her glass. "I was engaged to her dad when we found out about the baby. I wasn't sure about keeping it, but he said he really wanted to be a dad. And then she came along and he didn't want to do anything. So I left him so he wouldn't have to."

"Sounds like he deserved it. I would have done the same thing."

"I've never regretted it."

"How old was your daughter when you left him?"

"Just over a year."

"So she doesn't remember him?"

"No. I know it's hard for her sometimes, but--"

"As someone who didn't have a dad, I think that's better than having a shitty one."

Clarke does wonder sometimes how Finn would be with Madi now, if he would have gotten better as she got older, if he ever would have shaped up. Maybe he could have been a good father to a child, to a teenager, but all she knows is that he was a bad father and a worse partner. Madi understands that. 

"Not really the best thing to talk about when I'm trying to flirt, maybe," Bellamy says, a little wry and still very cute, and she realizes she's been quiet for a little too long.

"It did distract me from wondering if you were trying to flirt with me, if that helps."

He ducks his head, rubs the back of his neck with this hypnotic, bashful smile that makes her chest twist more than anything else he's done so far. It's a sweet little expression, without bravado, and she's sure it's _him_. He's not trying to be charming right now, but he's still pulling it off. "If you can't tell, I'm doing worse than I thought."

"I was expecting more pick-up lines."

"I figured buying you a drink counted." He shrugs, fluid and only a little sheepish. "But I guess I could have been more upfront. What are you looking for tonight?"

"Honestly? I haven't had sex with another human being for five years. I wouldn't mind breaking that streak."

"With me, or do you want me to help you find someone else?"

She has to laugh. "Finding someone else would be a huge pain." But she remembers that smile, the way he really does seem nervous. "With you, yeah."

"Cool. So--you want to finish this round?"

Clarke raises her glass. "Cheers."

*

"So, your place or mine?"

They're lingering awkwardly outside the bar, and Clarke's just glad Bellamy actually said what she was thinking before she had to. It's the question she's been debating in her head since they agreed they were planning to have sex, and she's still no closer to an answer, despite her growing mental pro/con list.

"What do you usually do?"

His mouth twists in a smile. "Let the person I'm hooking up with decide."

"Person?"

"I don't hook up with non-humans."

"Do you hook up with non-women?"

"Yeah. Is that a problem?"

Her chest warms despite the crisp November air. "No. I'm bi, so--"

"Cool. I tell straight people I'm bi and queer people I'm pan because I usually don't want to explain pansexuality to straight people."

She has to smile. "Okay, so--let's do your place."

"Cool. Did you drive?"

"No, Emori gave me a ride."

"I just walked over. It's not too far, but if you want to get a taxi or a lyft or something--"

"How far is not too far?"

"Ten minute walk."

"Yeah, that's fine."

It's a nice enough night, even if it's a little cold, clear with a decent number of stars. It's one of her favorite things about living in a more rural area, how many stars she can see. It always makes her feel calmer, more centered.

It makes it feel easy to ask, "How old are you?" 

"Twenty-six."

"I was guessing twenty-four to thirty."

"Good guess. Is that a problem?"

"The rule is half your age plus seven, right?"

"That's the common wisdom. You're thirty-four, so we should be good."

"Did you already do the math?"

"No, I just didn't care. You're gorgeous." 

He says it in an easy, matter-of-fact way, and Clarke is realizing that's just how he flirts, without the overt charm she expects. He doesn't need cheesy lines or flowery compliments; he's either genuine or really good at faking it.

"You're not so bad yourself."

"So, can I ask why it's been five years for you? Or do you not want to talk about it?"

"There really isn't much to talk about. Single mom. I didn't have time."

"But you made time tonight."

"Emori and Murphy showed up at my apartment, took my daughter, and told me I was going out. And then you came over to buy me a drink. This is the lowest effort hookup I've ever had. I didn't have to do anything."

He laughs. "Okay, so I guess the real question is what happened five years ago. Someone else dragged you out? Or is this something Emori and Murphy do every five years, and that was the last time it happened?"

"Someone asked me out and I said yes. We were coworkers, she got the queer vibe, we dated for a couple months. She wasn't sure about being a parent, but she wanted to give it a try. It wasn't for her, she broke up with me."

"That sucks."

It did, but she always feels like an asshole saying that. Some people don't like kids, and it's hardly a character flaw. But it had been rough, and Lexa hadn't exactly been up front about how she was feeling. Clarke had thought everything was going well, and then suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, Lexa was overwhelmed by parenthood and breaking up with her. It hadn't been a discussion, and Clarke hadn't had the chance to try and help.

It was just over.

"Which is why I needed five years to recover. Gina said you two used to date," she adds, a little too quick on the subject change, but she's done with this being about her. "When was that?"

"Like two years ago? Maybe three. Not for very long. I didn't have enough time to be the guy she deserved, so we broke it off."

"And now she's dating someone else."

"Yeah, but I don't think we'd be together even if she wasn't. I love her, but we're better off as friends."

"I don't think I'd go to a bar where any of my exes worked."

"Your exes kind of sound like jerks, so I don't blame you."

They lapse into silence again, which gives Clarke some time to start fretting about where this is going. She's excited, obviously, eager even, but it has been a long time for her, and she's never really done anything like this before. She hooked up in college, but she was drunker and looser, and the whole thing felt more spontaneous. She'd be at a party, meet someone, and dancing would lead to making out would lead to quick, fumbling sex somewhere awkward. 

She and Bellamy haven't even kissed yet. They're not overcome with lust, and it's not clear how that's going to happen. It's been very platonic, up to this point. It still doesn't feel like he's flirting with her, really.

But she does want him to touch her everywhere, so that's a good start.

His apartment building is brick and fairly unremarkable. He checks the mail for unit 6 in the vestibule, and Clarke sees the name _Blake_ written on the mailbox. Bellamy Blake, nice and alliterative.

"I'm on the second floor," he says, unlocking the door and letting her go through first. "On the right."

There are four units on each floor, and Clarke goes past five to get to his door. He opens it up and gestures her in again, giving her the chance to look around. The walls are off-white and the floors are hardwood, the decor not showing off much personality. There are some dishes in the sink that need to be done, and Bellamy adds the mail to a growing pile in a basket. 

If nothing else, it feels like a home, albeit a somewhat spartan one.

"So," he says, leaning against the counter, watching her. "What now?"

"How does it usually go? You're the expert."

"Depends. If you want to drive, you can drive. If you want me to be more in control, I can do that too. Not that--" He smiles. "We can just watch TV too, if you're--"

Laid out like that, it somehow feels simple. They're adults, they're here to have sex. She closes the short distance between them, leans up and presses her mouth to his. His lips are soft and yielding, the slight rasp of stubble on his cheeks just enough to make everything feel sharp, and real. These are the details that would be missing in a dream; these are the things she hasn't had, not for years.

"Okay," he murmurs against her mouth, one big, rough hand sliding up under the hem of her shirt, settling in the dip above her hip, thumb absently rubbing her skin as he tilts his head, finds a more comfortable angle to keep kissing her. But he's not pushy, following her lead even though she didn't actually tell him she wanted to be in control.

It's nice, really. It feels easier.

"I assume if this doesn't work for you, you'll tell me."

"Yeah, this is good with me." He nuzzles her neck. "But I like hooking up more in the bedroom than the kitchen."

"Me too." She gives him one more kiss, just because she can. She _likes_ kissing. "Show me the bedroom."

*

The sex doesn't disappoint. Bellamy fucks her once with her on her back, and then they make out until she's ready again, and he eats her out and _he's_ ready again, and then she straddles his hips and rides him until she screams. It might not be the most she's gotten off in one night, but it's certainly a contender, and after all she wants to do is lie there and bask in the endorphins.

Bellamy must too, because he rolls over to drape one arm over her stomach. "Can you stay?"

It's the phrasing that gets her, the implication that he wants her to stay and it's only whether or not she can. This was one night, and one night only, and just sex. If she stays, it could bleed into tomorrow. Waking up with him feels impossibly risky, and even worse if that's what he wants.

He's being polite. He's been unfailingly kind and considerate about this, and there's no reason he'd stop now.

She extricates herself from under his arm and starts looking for her clothes. "No, I really can't. I don't know when my daughter's coming back, but I need to be there."

"Yeah, of course." To her surprise, he stands too, tugging on a pair of boxers and then a pair of jeans, but no shirt. She doesn't know what his workout looks like, but it must be a lot; muscle definition like that is hard to come by. "Do you need a ride?"

"I can get a lyft."

"Or I can give you a ride. I don't mind," he adds, pitching his voice soft and earnest. "I'm already awake, and I'm sober enough to drive. It's no problem."

There's going to be a catch at some point, but she's worn out and doesn't want to kill the last of her good mood arguing with him. "Are you sure? I can definitely get a lyft."

"I'm sure."

"Then a ride would be great."

It's not great, honestly. It's kind of awkward. They had plenty to talk about before, but now Clarke feels the awareness that they're done with each other pressing down on her shoulders. She wants to be polite, to not be the person who fucks someone and immediately casts him aside, and she did like him, but she doesn't know what else they have to talk about. 

Mostly, she wills him to not ask for her number, because she'll give it to him and then she'll worry if he calls and if he doesn't call and she doesn't have time for that. It was fun, but it's not going to happen again.

Bellamy must get the message, because he pulls over at her house and flashes a smile. "I guess this is it."

Impulsively, she leans over and kisses his cheek. "Thank you. I had an amazing night."

"Me too. Maybe I'll see you back at the bar for your thirty-ninth."

She has to laugh. "Maybe. But I hope you've got somewhere better to be."

"Back at you." He smiles, and something in her stomach does twist. But he's twenty-six, on the verge of finishing grad school and starting his real life. They wouldn't have any time for each other, even if that's what they were looking for. This is for the best. "Have a nice night."

She wants to kiss him again, but she refrains. "You too. Goodnight, Bellamy."

"Goodnight."

He doesn't drive away until she's inside with the door closed, and she watches the red glow of his tail lights until they disappear into the night.

Thirty-four isn't bad, so far.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finished this earlier than expected, woo! thanks, random power outage that got me sent home early from work

Clarke had thought, off and on, about seeing Bellamy again after their night together. For the first couple weekends, she'd flirted with the idea of calling up Murphy and Emori, asking if they can watch Madi so she can have another night off. They'd know the subtext of the request, obviously, but she still could have done it. Bellamy might have been happy to see her.

She thinks he would have been, which is the leading reason she didn't do it. She doesn't have time to date someone, and even if she did, he wouldn't be a good option. He's _twenty-six years old_ ; he'd be too young for her even without the significant complication of her daughter. It's just been too long since she got laid and her brain is addled from good sex. It happens, and she figures he'll get over it.

She probably would have, too, except that Bellamy is at Madi's first softball game.

It takes her a second to get over the shock of seeing him, another to remember Madi talking about _Coach Blake_ , a third to remember the nameplate on Bellamy's mailbox, and then one final second to put those two facts together and reach the inevitable conclusion: she fucked her daughter's softball coach. 

Or, rather, she fucked the guy who is now coaching her daughter's softball team; she can take some small comfort in the fact that this is Madi's first year playing softball and the season didn't start until two months after her night with Bellamy.

She'll take whatever comfort she can get, right now.

Part of her wants to just leave, run away from the problem and never look back, but it's Madi's first game, and she's really been enjoying herself. And there are going to be games every weekend from here on out, and Clarke has already agreed to come to as many as she can. Even if she did leave today, she'd just be delaying the inevitable confrontation, and delaying it isn't going to make anything better.

He can't possibly know she's Madi's mom, can he? She scours her brain, trying to remember what they talked about, not just what they did. She's sure she didn't give him her last name. She might have told him Madi's, but Madison is pretty common, as names go, and Madi is a common nickname. Clarke doesn't even think she's the only Madi on the softball team. It might have crossed his mind that Madi or another sixth grader on the team could be her daughter, but even if it did, what was he going to do? He didn't have her number. His only option would be asking Murphy and Emori, and they probably would have mentioned if he had. Which he wouldn't have, because who would have thought that?

Seriously, the odds of something like this happening must be astronomically low.

She's still trying to decide what to do when Bellamy turns to look over the crowd and catches her staring at him. It's not as embarrassing as it could be; it's not like she wouldn't expect him to be staring at her, if their positions were reversed. _Rude_ is kind of relative right now. She just wants to survive this.

She raises her hand to give him a small, uncomfortable wave, and he returns it, starts making his way to the section of fence closest to her, which means she has no choice but to do the same. Madi is warming up with some friends in the field, her back to the two of them, and if any of her friends tell her that her mom was talking to the coach, she'll probably assume that Clarke was fretting over something.

All those years of being an over-invested mom might finally be paying off.

"Which one is yours?" Bellamy asks.

"Madi Griffin."

"Oh good." She raises her eyebrows, and he laughs a small, awkward laugh. "I would have felt bad if I didn't like her."

That makes her laugh too, eases some of her anxiety too. Bellamy was nice, and they parted on good terms. This doesn't have to be weird. "Yeah, me too."

Some tension bleeds back into the silence that follows, and she clears her throat. She can do this. She's supposed to be the mature one here. "I guess I should have asked if you coached middle-school softball."

"Honestly, I thought about mentioning it. But it felt weird to just drop into the conversation, and I thought asking what school your daughter went to would be creepy."

"Yeah, definitely." She tries a smile. "It's not a big deal, right?"

"No, definitely not. As long as you don't yell at me for not giving Madi enough play time or whatever."

"I'll try not to be an asshole parent."

"That's all I ask."

It's the natural end of the conversation, but Clarke doesn't actually want to leave. She _has_ been thinking about him, these last few months, and this feels like a golden opportunity, dropped into her lap.

She's already fucked her daughter's softball coach once, she could probably do it again and it wouldn't be that much worse, morally speaking. She's already crossed that line.

"Why are you coaching middle-school softball?" she asks. It's a safe question, probably. Better than _want to hook up again?_

"My sister used to play," he says. "They needed a new coach, I said I could do it, since it was part-time and I needed money. They didn't want to hire me, thought I was too young, but I talked them into it. Once I get a full-time job that pays decently, I'll probably quit, but for now it's nice to have the extra income."

"How old were you when you started?" 

"Twenty. My sister was thirteen and pissed about it."

"You being her coach or just being thirteen in general?"

He ducks his head, laughing. "Both, now that you mention it. But mostly me being her coach. She thought I was just being an asshole who couldn't leave her alone, we got in a pretty big fight until I actually showed her how bad our budget was and how much the extra income would help."

It's an intriguing statement. "How much of the budgeting were you doing? And how much of the income were you providing?"

"My mom died when I was nineteen, so all of both."

"I'm so sorry," she says.

He gives her one of his half smiles. "I'm pretty used to it, but thanks."

"My dad died when I was seventeen," she offers. "But I didn't have to take over as head of household."

"It wasn't the best thing that ever happened to me, but we got through it."

"So your sister is--" She does the math quickly. "Nineteen now?"

"Yeah. She moved out when she was eighteen, though. She works for the park service in Montana."

"Better her than me," says Clarke, without thinking, but it makes Bellamy laugh.

"Yeah. I thought about going with her, but, fuck, I didn't want to live in Montana. I like it here. And I was in school."

"So you were going to college, raising a teenager, and working how many jobs?"

"Two or three, depending on when we're talking about. I just do a lot of weird part-time stuff for now. And build up debt."

"No wonder you didn't have time to date Gina."

"Yeah, O was getting older, didn't need me around all the time, but--" He shrugs. "I still felt bad if I wasn't there when she might need me."

It's doing funny things to her stomach, hearing Bellamy talk about something like parenthood, about being responsible for another human and taking that responsibility seriously. There must have been other options, after his mother died--he couldn't possibly have been the only person in a position to take her, but he did it anyway.

"Which is also why you thought about going to Montana?"

"Pretty much. She never would have forgiven me, though." Someone blows a whistle somewhere, and he glances over his shoulder. "Okay, I have to go be a coach."

"Yeah, of course. It's good to see you again."

"I'm glad," he says, flashing a smile. "Since I assume we're going to keep seeing each other."

Her stomach flips again. "Yeah, I assume so. Have a good game."

"I'll do my best."

They win, and Clarke gets to see Bellamy's bright, triumphant grin, which she definitely didn't need, and on the drive home, Madi asks, "Were you talking to Coach Blake before the game?"

"Yeah. He knows Emori and Murphy."

In the rear view mirror, Madi's eyes widen almost comically. "He does?"

"He does. I met him when Emori and I went out for drinks for my birthday, but I didn't know he was your coach."

It's not a lie, but she still feels a little bad about it. She learned long ago that she couldn't always be completely honest with her daughter, and this is definitely one of those times when fudging the truth is appropriate. But still, it chafes against her conscience, and she only feels worse than Madi says, "Oh, it's cool that you're friends," because they definitely aren't. Not even close.

"Friendly," she says.

"Well, you should be friends. I like Coach Blake."

Clarke's fingers twitch on the steering wheel. "Yeah, I do too."

*

"So, you really did fuck Bellamy?"

Clarke frowns at Murphy over her sandwich. "Did he just bring this up?"

"He was asking how to be normal around you. I told him I was just going to tell you about it and he said better me than him. So, you fucked him?"

"I didn't think this was news, Emori saw us. I thought she could connect the dots on us leaving together."

"She knew you went home with him, but honestly? I didn't think you were going to seal the deal. And I wasn't going to ask, that would be rude."

Clarke snorts. "And you're never rude."

"Also I don't care about your sex life. But he's worried it's going to be weird."

"I don't blame him." She sighs. "Do you think it's going to be weird?"

"I don't know why either of you thinks I'm going to have an opinion on this. Don't have a kid, don't have casual sex, really can't relate." But he also can't keep his mouth shut, so he adds, "How often do you even see Madi's softball coach? That can't be a major relationship for you."

It's been two weeks of seeing Bellamy for Madi's games, and so far Murphy's right. The first week, they talked, but the second, they just nodded at each other, and there's no reason that shouldn't continue to be their status quo. The only parents who talk to him regularly are the ones Clarke knows to be assholes, and their main goal seems to be yelling at him for imagined slights against their children while he pretends to care. There's no good reason she can't go through the entire season without any awkward encounters.

But this is Murphy, so she figures she might as well be honest. "I want to fuck him again."

"Couldn't you just fuck someone who isn't your kid's softball coach?" he asks. "That seems easier."

"I already know I like fucking him. If I hooked up with someone else, they might not be any good."

"Allosexual life still sounds shitty. Is this one of those forbidden fruit things? Wanting what you can't have?"

"It's not forbidden. It's not even like he's a teacher where there's a conflict of interest with him grading her. He's a part-time softball coach, and I wouldn't be trading my body for more play time for Madi or anything."

"Are you asking me for permission? Because I don't care. Do what you want."

"I feel like an asshole. I know people have casual sex, but I'm not good at it."

"So don't make it casual. Ask him out or something."

"That's not what I meant."

"God, I hate this conversation. You don't want to have casual sex, but you don't want to ask him out, but you do want to have sex?"

"He's twenty-six," she says, flat.

"Which relates how?"

"I feel like a creep for even being attracted to him."

"Huh." He taps his jaw. "What's the rule? Half your age plus seven?"

That is the common rule, was even the rule she and Bellamy talked about, but it's been bugging her a little. "I think if you're looking for a rule to decide if someone is too young for you, you already know they're too young."

"So, how old would he have to be for you to not be asking?"

"Thirty? I don't know." She rubs her face. "I know he's not that young, but he is a lot younger than I am."

"He's legal. Hell, he can buy booze and rent a car, he's not even borderline underage. If you feel weird, you feel weird, but you can't say he's not an adult who can make his own choices. Plus, he's way too fucking mature and serious for his own good. Honestly, I forgot he was only twenty-six, he feels like everyone's buzzkill older brother whenever we hang out." He smirks. "No wonder you like him."

"Shut up."

"You're cool to fuck a twenty-six-year-old as much as you want to," he says, a proclamation. "Seriously, have some fun. And if you need a babysitter--"

"I still don't trust you with my daughter."

"Uh huh. Just let me and Emori know, we love hanging out with the kid."

"I know you do." She sighs. "Sorry for making you tell me I'm not a creep."

"You know, I've heard instead of saying sorry, you should try to say thank you. For example, _thank you for telling me I'm not a creep_. Way more positive."

She laughs. "You're right, that sounds a lot better. You aren't going to tell him about this, right?" she can't help adding.

"Fuck, of course not. This conversation was bad enough once, I don't want to have it again. And I'm not going to be your middle-school hook-up go between. You want to fuck him, you have to tell him yourself."

It's the leading reason Clarke suspects nothing is actually going to happen. If they were seeing each other every week at the bar or something, she could probably turn that into another hookup, maybe even a regular thing. But it's not like she can just take him home after one of Madi's softball games. Even if she finds a way to interact with him more, it's not going to go anywhere.

"Sounds awful," she says. "I'll probably just give up."

Murphy raises his cup of soda. "That's the spirit."

*

Their second hookup happens with the inevitability of dominoes falling, all the perfectly aligned pieces falling into each other, everything coming together perfectly.

The first thing that happens is that, before Clarke ever knew Bellamy was Madi's coach, she agreed to be on an email list for softball parents, where they coordinate carpools and volunteer to bring snacks and share photos. Bellamy very rarely communicates directly with them, but he'll sometimes send requests for help from parents. Clarke had been able to ignore them because he's always requesting things she can't do, but this one is pretty simple and she can definitely help: his car is out of commission and he needs a ride to and from the game on Saturday. Clarke already knows where he lives, and she's going to the game anyway. Plus, Madi likes him and certainly won't mind.

So she says she can do it, Bellamy thanks her, and they have a brief, private exchange where he gives her his actual address and they set up a time for her to get him. It's really not a big deal, and even Clarke--who overthinks basically everything about Bellamy--doesn't see how it could go anywhere exciting. She's driving him the twenty minutes from his apartment to the game; at most, they'll have two awkward conversations, one for each trip.

Madi asks if she can go ring the bell when they get to his building, and Clarke idles in the driveway, watching as Madi runs up and lets herself into the vestibule. It's less than a minute before she's back with Bellamy in tow, not long enough for even Clarke to start panicking. He's dressed as he usually is for the games, in an Arcadia Middle School t-shirt and jeans, but he's wearing his glasses, which she hasn't seen since the bar.

He probably doesn't know that, though, and he definitely doesn't know how much she likes the glasses. He's not actually trying to kill her.

"Hey," he says, sliding into the passenger seat while Madi resettles into the back. "Thanks for the ride."

"No problem. I figured better me than some parent who'd lock the doors and refuse to let you out until you agreed to let their kid play the whole game. What happened to your car?"

"Not actually sure, but my friend Raven is a mechanical genius, so if anyone can figure it out and fix it, she can. Luckily it's not a huge deal, I can walk to work and my classes are mostly online, but the games are a little far."

"Classes?" asks Madi. "Why do you have classes?"

"I'm in grad school," he says. "I'm going to be a librarian."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I like books."

"Me too, but I don't know if I want to be a librarian. They're always telling me to be quiet."

"Yeah, I'm looking forward to that part." He grins over his shoulder at Madi. "I'm going to kick kids out for being too loud and ask them where they were raised. That's what they teach you in librarian school."

"And shushing?" Clarke asks.

"Yeah, that's my elective this semester."

"What classes do you take for a masters in--" She frowns, realizing she doesn't actually know what a library degree even is. She hadn't even known it required an advanced degree.

"Library and information science," he supplies. "I've actually got some really cool stuff this semester."

Talking about his classes gets them to the school without any awkwardness. They had to come early, since he has setup to do, but Clarke and Madi are both happy to help him out, even if Madi takes off as soon as her friends start showing up. Bellamy is doing some heavy lifting, which is a little distracting, especially with the play of muscle under his t-shirt, but it's easy enough to handle. And the eye candy is nice.

Madi finds her after the game and asks, "Can I go to Rachel's?"

"For how long?"

"If her mom says it's okay, I want to stay for dinner."

"How's your homework?"

"Good." She should know that's not enough information, so Clarke just waits until she realizes it. "I have to read three chapters for English and one for history, and I have a Spanish and math worksheet. They're both just a page, I can do all of it tomorrow."

"Let's go talk to Rachel's mom."

They get the play date squared away without any issue, which means that Madi is going home with Rachel's family, and Clarke is helping Bellamy clean up.

Alone.

"Madi said to apologize to you for missing the ride back."

"Very polite of her."

"I'm trying."

"You're doing a good job. She's a great kid."

"Thanks."

"I can get a lyft home."

Clarke pauses, watching him as he pointedly doesn't look at her. "A lyft?"

"If you don't want to give me a ride. I know it's awkward."

It was, but his acknowledging it somehow dissolves all Clarke's nerves. They're on the same page. "I don't mind. You could come to my place, if you wanted."

He jerks like the bat he's holding electrocuted him. "What?"

"It's an option. Your call."

"Are you propositioning me?"

"I'm saying I wouldn't mind a round two, if you wanted to."

He glances around, but it's really just the two of them by this point. Most everyone else cleared out while they were coordinating Madi's play date, and the last few trickled out during the cleanup.

"Sorry, if that was too much--" she starts, and he barks a laugh.

"No, uh, definitely not. You're good. This is what you do with unexpected free time?"

"Just when you're around."

His tongue darts out to wet his lips. "I could make some time, yeah. Let me just lock up."

She's expecting the drive back to be awkward again, for her nerves and anticipation to derail everything else, but it's easier now too, when they have other things to talk about, when their only connection isn't flirting at a bar. They have some things in common, sort of.

"You're a really good coach."

He looks surprised, but pleased. "Thanks."

"I figured you might not get a lot of positive reinforcement from the parents."

"From some of them. I like middle-school because they aren't quite as intense as in high-school. They want to make sure their kids get to go onto the team in high school, which they probably will, and that's all they care about. They don't think I can hook them up with ivy-league scholarships."

"That's not all they care about, they just take the rest of it for granted."

"Yeah? Like what?"

"You're good with the kids, you make them feel included and valued, and you make sure everyone gets a chance to play. You don't play favorites. They'd care if you didn't do that stuff."

"Probably." He smirks. "Sounds like you've known some shitty coaches."

"Madi's been doing sports since kindergarten trying to find the right fit. I've know basically every kind."

"Yeah, she mentioned she does cross-country in the fall."

"She likes running. I don't get it, but if it makes her happy, I'm good with it."

"That's how O was too. I've always--there was a gym at the youth center, and it was somewhere I could go. It got me into some good workout habits, but I never liked it. O wanted to do every physical activity I could enroll her in and then some."

"Were you always the one enrolling her?"

"Even before she died, my mom worked a lot. We never had enough money. It was my job to watch my sister so she could focus on supporting us."

"Starting when you were seven?"

"Pretty much. My sister's dad was kind of like Madi's dad, I guess. He said all the right things to make my mom think he would stay, but as soon as he figured out how much work it was, he left."

"What about your dad?"

"One-night stand. By the time my mom found out she was pregnant, she had no idea how to find him."

"I'm sorry," she says, and then laughs. Bellamy is frowning, so she explains, "Something Murphy told me. He said I should try to replace sorry with thank you. So--thank you for telling me that."

"That's pretty good advice, for Murphy." He shifts. "What did he tell you I said?"

"That you wanted to know how to be normal around me."

"Kind of."

"What did you say?"

"I didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

"And then I asked you to hook up and made you uncomfortable."

"Yeah, uh, trust me, if I knew I could just ask if you wanted to hook up, I wouldn't have been worried about making things weird."

A warmth like a lump of coal ignites in her stomach, something small and hard that still manages to heat her whole body. "I guess I'm kind of a mess, huh?"

"I get it," he says. "It's hard, figuring out relationships with kids. But--I wanted to ask for your number."

It's not a surprise, and at this point she can even admit that she wishes he had. She would have regretted it if she never saw him again. 

"You can have it now, if you want."

He smiles. "Yeah, that would be great."

For the rest of the drive, they chat about the softball team, how it works when the girls transition from middle to high school, how Bellamy is both excited and sad that his time as a coach will probably be ending soon. It's strange to think he's been doing this for so long, the last six years of his life, when he's so young, but it's not like she wasn't in the middle of something long-term and stable when she was his age. Hers just feels so different, somehow.

Maybe he's always going to make her head hurt. Just a little.

"Nice place," he remarks, as she pulls into the driveway. "You're rich, right?"

There's no reason to deny it. "Yeah. My dad left me a lot of money in a trust when he died. I'm really lucky."

"Yeah, all I got was a shitty house and a dependent."

"I do have a dependent." 

"You do. But that's unrelated."

"What happened to the house?"

"Sold it to a flipper after Octavia moved out."

"At least I didn't buy it."

He snorts. "Yeah, that would have been awkward."

She unlocks the door and tries not to fret about what he's seeing. They have a lot of stuff, and it's all nice, but neither she nor Madi is the tidiest, and she wasn't planning on having guests. It's not a total mess, but her eye inevitably finds the dusty corner, the dirty plate, the discarded sock.

Whatever, he's seen dirty socks before. "Do you want a tour?"

He slides in behind her, arms wrapping around her waist, nose nuzzling under her jaw. "Not really."

The relief of the contact is instantaneous and a little alarming; Clarke still melts back into it like this is where she was meant to be.

"Not even the bedroom?" 

"We'll get there." His mouth presses against her neck, a hot kiss that has her moaning, and his hands glide over her skin. He seems to like touching her stomach, and she doesn't quite get it, but it still feels like his fingertips are dragging fire everywhere he touches.

She thought it was just that it had been so long since anyone touched her, but maybe it's just Bellamy.

He slides the neck of her t-shirt down so he can trail kisses down her shoulder. "Is it bad if I want to do this here?"

"Depends on what you mean by _this_ ," she says, brain emerging from the fog of lust long enough to check the curtains, which are still drawn against the morning sun. They have a decent amount of privacy. "And _here_."

He laughs and nips her shoulder gently. "I'm trying to seduce you."

"And I want you to, but we're not having sex on the couch where my daughter does her homework."

He groans, but it's mostly amused. "If I promise not to fuck you anywhere Madi sits, will you not mention her? Because I want to fuck you and that's not helping."

She twists around so she can kiss him, deep and wet and perfect, and that does seem to get him back on track, his hands pushing under her shirt again, up her back, his tongue sliding into her mouth.

"You're driving this time?" she murmurs.

"I figured it was my turn."

"So what do you want to do to me here?"

"Honestly? I wanted to bend you over something and fuck you. I figure you can pick what, it's your house."

"Kitchen counter," she says, and he laughs and tugs on her shirt until she raises her arms and lets him pull it off.

"You came up with that one fast."

"I'm single, I still have fantasies."

He unhooks her bra and gets it off, but when he leans back in, he's kissing her again, and walking her backward towards the kitchen. "You should tell me more of those."

"One at a time."

To her surprise, when they get to the kitchen, he turns her around immediately, getting her braced against the counter as he crowds up behind her. She's already getting wet, of course, but she was expecting a little more foreplay.

But then he's kissing her neck again, hands working her breasts as he grinds against her ass, and the small part of her brain that's still thinking about things feels bad for not giving him more credit.

Then one of his hands undoes the button on her jeans and she stops thinking at all.

"You have the most incredible breasts I've ever seen," he murmurs, words hot against her skin as he rubs her nipple between his fingers. "Fuck, Clarke."

She moans and pushes back against him, desperate for every point of contact.

His other hand slides into her open jeans, under the fabric of her underwear and down to her clit, one firm finger starting to stroke. It should be too much, the stimulation on her neck, her breast, her ass, her clit, and it almost is, but she doesn't want him to stop touching any of them, never wants him to stop.

The rhythm isn't perfect, with so much for him to coordinate, but it doesn't really matter. When his breath goes ragged on her shoulder or his hand fumbles on her breast, all it does is remind her how this is turning him on, how it's too much for him too, how into her he is.

She comes for the first time gasping and pressing back against his dick, and by the time she's recovered he's got his jeans shoved down and a condom out.

"I was thinking about this the whole time we were in the car," he says, like it's something he has to justify.

"'Me too." She pecks his mouth and steps out of her own jeans and underwear. "Lose the shirt."

He tosses it aside and she takes the condom, rolling it on with less skill than she had in college, but he doesn't seem to mind. He ducks his head for another longer kiss and then he's turning her around, pressing his dick against her ass and then sliding into her in one hot, fluid motion, filling her up and pressing against her just right. She moans, dropping her forehead to rest against the cool marble of the counter, taking a few breaths as she adjusts.

"Yeah," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to her shoulder blade. "Yeah, I've got you."

His first few thrusts are slow, careful, but when she pushes back, he gets the message and speeds up, fucking her deep and fast and hard. She manages to find the right angle to take him after a few more strokes, and suddenly he's hitting her g-spot with every thrust, making her worry she might actually come loudly enough the neighbors will hear.

It's hard to care, though, especially when one of his hands finds her breast again, and then it's all bursts of pleasure on her skin, inside her, head building everywhere until the orgasm crashes through her.

She doesn't think she screams, but she wouldn't bet money on it. She does collapse against the counter, and Bellamy slumps over her, kissing her shoulder again.

"You're amazing."

She wants to tell him he did most of the work, but she's still catching her breath. So she kisses his bicep and hopes he gets the idea.

*

They watch TV until they're ready for round two in the bedroom, and he stays for dinner after. She drives him home and picks Madi up on her way back, feeling only a little guilty. She doesn't like keeping things from her, but it's still not something she _should_ be sharing with her daughter. She and Bellamy aren't dating; they had sex twice--or, rather, on two occasions--and they might have sex again, if they can fit it into their schedules. But Bellamy is probably too busy to date, even if he wanted to date her, which he probably doesn't because she's eight years older than he is and has a child.

Granted, he used to have a child too, but if she'd only just stopped having to take care of her sister, she wouldn't be rushing to take on another kid.

So she doesn't mention the Bellamy thing to Madi. She thinks about telling Murphy, but there's really not anything to say; she wanted to sleep with him again and she did. He doesn't need an update, and probably doesn't want one either.

Bellamy texts her on Monday, while Madi is at school: _My reading is so boring_

The sheer mundaneness of the message is alarming, and she spends a minute just staring at it, trying to figure out what his angle is. She assumed he'd use her number to set up hookups, not complain about homework. She didn't think he wanted to chat.

Before she's figured it out, her phone pings with another message.

**Bellamy** : What are you up to?

**Me** : Am I supposed to say I'm naked or something?

**Bellamy** : Uh  
Are you?  
I assumed you were working, but if you're naked, that's cool too

**Me** : I am  
But I thought this might be a sext  
Or you wanted me to send you nudes to motivate you

**Bellamy** : I don't trust sending nudes  
I don't know what the cloud is but it seems like a place where you don't want naked pictures of yourself  
Besides, I'd rather see the real thing  
In general   
Not now  
You don't have to send nudes  
Anyway  
How's work?

It feels dangerous, just _talking_ to Bellamy, but this must be how it works, having a friend with benefits. The friendship is as important as the benefits. So they talk about work, and she asks him if he's heard from his sister lately and if his friend has performed a miracle with his car, and he asks how Madi's doing and what her plans are for the week.

At which point she has a minor crisis and calls Wells.

Wells is her best friend in that way where they haven't really talked since Christmas, but it doesn't actually matter. She could call Wells any hour of any day and her pick up and be there for her, and that goes both ways. He's the only number set to clear her do-not-disturb, including her mother, the ultimate emergency contact. If she had one of those phones that the President has in movies, the red ones that stay under glass, it would ring through to him.

"Hey," he says, "is everything okay?"

"Yeah, just having a crisis."

"One of those okay crisises." He pauses. "Crises?"

"I don't know, but one of those, yeah. Are you busy?"

"Never too busy for you. What's up?"

She sighs. "I guess it is kind of a couple things. I met a guy. Sort of."

"How do you sort of meet a guy?"

"I went to a bar on my birthday, he bought me a drink, we fucked."

"Wow."

"People do that all the time," she snaps.

"People do, yeah. You don't."

"I don't, no. And it was good, but--one night."

"Except that you're calling me about it four months later."

"He's Madi's softball coach."

"Awkward."

"He's also twenty-six."

"Kind of awkward, depending."

She frowns. "Depending on what?"

"What kind of twenty-six, I guess. Like, is he going out every night and getting wasted? Or does he stay home and read?"

"He goes out more than I do, but I think he's more of a social drinker. And he's in grad school studying to be a school librarian."

"So not that awkward."

"He's still twenty-six."

"And you want to fuck him again?"

"I already fucked him again. But I still want to fuck him more, yeah."

"And he doesn't?"

"No, he does. But he also--" She rubs her face, huffs out something like a laugh. "He keeps just texting me? To say hi. Make conversation."

"So he likes you more than you like him."

"No!" she says, way too quickly. "I mean--I like him, he's a good guy. I like talking to him. But I wasn't expecting it."

"Which part?"

"Any of it. Everything about him."

"You like him."

"I just said that."

"I mean you _like_ him. That's your crisis. You've got a crush on the guy you're fucking."

She opens and closes her mouth. "That's not the whole crisis," she finally says.

"Yeah, he's also twenty-six."

"And that. But it's also just--I think I'm not happy."

She can hear something rustling on the other end of the line, imagines Wells sitting up straighter, this tangible sign he's taking the conversation more seriously, and she lets out a shaky breath.

"It's not--my life is good, you know? But we've been talking, and he asked me what I'm doing and I'm just--I love Madi, I wouldn't give her up for anything in the world, but she's my whole life. And not in a good way."

"I get that. I feel like that sometimes with Theo."

Clarke bites back on her smile. Wells' son is only three, and most of their non-verbal communication since Christmas has been Wells texting her pictures of him. "Yeah, but you have Anna. And not just Anna, you're in that toddler group and you go to the children's museum and--"

"Hey, I've always been more social than you, that's not new." But his voice is gentle. "This is something you can solve, you know. Or at least make better. It feels like a crisis, but Madi's getting old enough now you two can talk about this stuff. If you need more of a social life, you have people who can babysit, right? That weird guy you went to college with? Or when she has sleepovers or--" She can hear him smiling. "It's not bad to realize you aren't happy."

"No?"

"No. If you know, you can do something about it."

"And what if I do have a crush on the guy?" she asks, soft.

"Would that be so bad? Yeah, yeah," he adds. "I know he's younger than you are, but that only matters if it matters to you two."

"Would you have wanted to date a thirty-four-year-old single mom with an eleven-year-old when you were his age?"

"It doesn't matter what I want, just what he wants. And maybe he doesn't want that, but--age is a demographic, not a personality."

"I know." She sighs, laughs a little, a watery sound that she hates. "I just--I don't like being the person whose whole life is turned upside down because of some guy."

"Clarke, I love you, so I hope you take this the right way, but your life kind of needed it. If it didn't happen now, it was going to when Madi went to college."

She smiles. "You know, I think that kind of happened to him."

"Your guy?"

"Yeah. He helped raise his little sister, ended up with custody of her for a while, and when she finished high school, she left to move to Montana and he nearly went after her."

"When was that?"

"A couple years ago."

"Sounds like he might actually be really good for you," he points out, gentle.

It's a little farther than she's willing to go, but someone else saying it isn't so bad. It's somewhere to start, anyway. "Maybe," she says. "I'll work on it. You should send me more cute pictures of Theo for moral support."

"Only if you send pictures of Madi playing softball."

"I can handle that." 

"Cool. You know I love you, right?"

"I know."

"You're going to be fine."

"I am. And I love you too." 

She hangs up and moves back to her text chain with Bellamy, smiling as she reads the message that came in during the call: _If you want recommendations for weird documentaries on Netflix, I'm your guy_. Anyone would get a crush on him, and now that she's admitted she has one, she can start getting over it. 

_Got anything about Vikings?_ she asks, and settles down with her wine to wait for his reply.

*

For the next few weeks, Clarke's life follows an easy routine. Bellamy's mechanic friend had to special-order some parts for his car, so she gives him a ride the next Saturday, and since his place is on their way anyway, she asks if he wants to just keep on carpooling even after he could drive himself again. They do away games together too, Madi in the back seat with the window open and the radio blaring, and it's comfortable and easy, companionable.

When Madi makes plans after her games or on Sundays, Clarke lets Bellamy know, and he comes over unless he's busy. They always have sex because that's the deal, right? That's the reason he's coming over. But they hang out some too, and when they text, it's about normal friend things. 

It doesn't feel like any relationship she's ever had before, and she doesn't know exactly how to define him, but it's good. Not exactly what she wants, but enough. She could definitely keep doing this until softball season ends, and maybe they can reassess from there. Have an actual conversation, if she gets her nerve up.

It's Madi who asks, about a month into things, "Why don't we ever invite Coach Blake over?"

Clarke takes a second to consider the question. "Do you want to invite Coach Blake over?"

"He's kind of a friend, right? We have Murphy and Emori over, and Uncle Wells and Aunt Anna. Maybe we could do that with him too."

"I wouldn't mind," she says, careful. "I like Be--Coach Blake, and we've been texting some and talking at games. But you don't have to--do _you_ want to invite him over."

"Yeah. We could use more friends, right?"

" _We_ or me?"

"Mostly you." She pauses. "Maybe a boyfriend."

"You're trying to set me up with Coach Blake?"

"Why not? You already said you liked him."

At this rate, Bellamy is going to be either the best or worst thing that ever happens to her. "He's eight years younger than I am."

Madi looks stunned. Like most kids, she doesn't have a great feel for adult ages. "Really?"

"Yup."

"But you're both, like, adults."

At some point, someone is going to acknowledge that eight years is a significant and meaningful age difference, and that person will be her favorite. But she wasn't really expecting Madi to get it. "I don't mind inviting him over, but you know he's not going to just become my boyfriend, right? He might already be dating someone. He might not even like girls. And I don't know if I want to date him, either," she lies.

"I know," says Madi, with a roll of her eyes. She's definitely going to be a challenging teenager. "But we could still invite him over. Maybe on Saturday? After the game?"

"I'll ask him," she says. "But he might be busy."

It's true, obviously, he _could_ be busy, but she's not actually expecting him to turn her down. That's one of the unnerving things about Bellamy; she really _does_ think he likes her. Maybe not as a serious romantic prospect, but he clearly wants to be her friend, and he likes Madi too. Dinner with the two of them is exactly the kind of thing he'll be into, so of course he agrees without hesitation, asks if he can bring anything, if he can help in any way.

He's cutting watermelon while Clarke works on a salad when he remarks, "It's weird to be in your kitchen and not fucking you."

She chokes, but recovers fast. "We've made dinner before."

"Okay, yeah. Maybe it's just weird to be at your house when Madi is around."

"Yeah, I can tell you're not used to it from the way you're talking about us having sex."

"Quietly. And she's upstairs."

Clarke worries her lip, debating with herself. "She's trying to set us up."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. That's probably why she's upstairs instead of pestering you with questions."

"I wasn't offended she wasn't around. I assume you didn't tell her anything about--us."

"No, I didn't. Did you ever have this problem with your sister?"

There's a pause. "What problem, exactly?"

"Her meddling in your love life."

"Oh, yeah. Not the same way, obviously. She knew I got laid sometimes, but we had a couple fights about how I didn't date enough and I was putting my life on hold for her." He sighs. "She wasn't right, but she wasn't wrong either. I dated enough, and I got through college pretty much on time, and I'm on schedule for grad school. But if I hadn't had her, things would have been different."

"Different doesn't mean better."

"Yeah. And honestly--being an older brother, taking care of her? That's so much of who I am. It's what I've done for as long as I can remember. I don't even know--" He lets out a little laugh. "I'd be a completely different person."

She reaches over, cups his cheek and leans up to brush her lips against his, a quick whisper of a kiss. "I like you now," she tells him, and his smile is so soft, she can almost feel the texture of it. 

"Yeah," he says. "I like me too."

*

"So, are you dating anyone?"

Bellamy finishes his bite of salad and takes a drink of lemonade, and then looks at Madi. "I'm flattered, but you're way too young for me. And I don't date my players."

"Everyone on the team wants to know."

"Everyone on the team is way to young for me. That's why I don't date my players."

"What's the rule? Half your age plus seven?" Clarke asks, innocent, and he snorts.

"My rule is legal to drink, at least for now. I'll revise it as I get older."

"That definitely rules out all your players. Also we didn't invite Coach Blake over so you could interrogate him about his personal life," she tells Madi.

"I'm not interrogating him!" she protests. "I'm just asking a question. Making conversation. I already know what he does for a living and if he has pets."

"The most important things," says Bellamy, with a smile. He takes another drink of lemonade. "I am kind of seeing someone."

"Kind of?" 

"It's complicated. I really like her, and we've been talking a lot, spending some time together. But I don't know if she really wants to date anyone right now, let alone me, so--" He shrugs, a slightly jagged motion, and Clarke tries to remember how to breathe. "This stuff is always complicated. But you can tell the team I'm spoken for."

The conversation moves on quickly enough Clarke can almost convince herself he wasn't talking about her, that there's someone else he's pining for, that it's just sex with her, and this was his way of letting her know, gently, that nothing was going to happen between them.

But the tension never quite leaves his shoulders, and she catches him once or twice stealing glances at her, these small, anxious looks that have her whole body thrumming.

If he didn't mean her, she doesn't think he would have said it. She already thought he didn't want to date her, it wasn't like he needed to make that clear. If he'd just said he was single, she would have gotten the message. If he hadn't said anything, she never would have given it a second thought.

It would have been so easy for him to let her know he didn't want her, and instead, he said he wanted _someone_ , someone he's not sure wants him back.

The rest of the meal is a very mild form of torture, the kind where she has a normal conversation with her favorite person and a very strong contender for her second favorite person and pretends to not be obsessing over how said second favorite person feels and what he wants from her. But there's another kind of torture there too, the sweet, sharp pain of wanting to do this more, of the possibility that she could get it. She and Bellamy and Madi could eat together, and after Bellamy wouldn't go home, he'd just stay.

It doesn't feel impossible.

Madi helps clear the table and do the dishes, as usual, and once they're done she asks if Bellamy wants to stay to watch a movie. He glances at Clarke, checking in, and Clarke tries to pour everything she's feeling into her smile. "That would be fun, right?"

She's not sure he gets it, but he does smile back. "Yeah, that sounds good."

"Madi, can you take the trash out before we watch? It's getting full."

"Sure!" She pulls the bag out and ties it, slips on her flip flops and disappears out the back door. It won't take her more than a minute or two, but that's all the time Clarke needs.

"Me?" she asks.

"Yeah." His breath comes out shaky. "It's not a big deal if--"

She tugs him down, the kiss quick but firm, the most efficient way to get her point across. "We still need to talk," she adds, but a smile is taking over her face.

"Sure," he says. "I like talking to you."

"Bellamy--"

It's his turn to kiss her, just as quick, and then steps back, like he's afraid if he's in too close proximity to her he won't be able to help doing it again. "I know, serious talk," he says. "Later."

They watch the movie, Bellamy sitting in a chair while Clarke and Madi take the couch. If Madi's upset that Bellamy--apparently--likes someone other than Clarke, she shows no sign of it; Clarke suspects she really does just like knowing Clarke has _people_ , and if nothing else, Bellamy seems likely to be another person who likes her and wants to spend time with her. Even her daughter knows she doesn't have friends.

It shouldn't be too hard to come up with an explanation for her of how they got together. That was Bellamy, telling Clarke he had a crush, and Clarke got the message. They can skip all the sex stuff and the weird drama and focus on the feelings.

Fuck, there are _feelings_.

When the movie ends, she wants to ask him to stay, but she doesn't know how to in front of Madi. She doesn't want to have this conversation over text, and she doesn't want to have it tomorrow. What she wants is to feel sure, confident. To know where they stand before he goes.

Madi makes her life a little easier. "I'm going to bed," she announces. "Thanks for coming over, Coach Blake."

"Thanks for inviting me," he says. "I had fun."

"You should come visit more. You're friends with Murphy and Emori, right? They come over. You guys could play games or something."

"Madi thinks she needs to manage my social life," says Clarke, smiling. "Go to bed."

Bellamy excuses himself to go to the bathroom, presumably so she can tell Madi he left right after that if she wants to, and Clarke busies herself putting away dishes to have something to do with her hands.

He slides in behind her at the sink when he comes back, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her neck. This seems to be one of his favorite positions, and it's becoming one of her favorites too.

"I want to date you," he murmurs. "I didn't ever want just one night."

Clarke relaxes back into him, eyes sliding shut. "So, what, you sat down next to me that first night thinking, yeah, I want a long-term relationship with this thirty-something single mom?"

"I sat down next to you thinking you were cute and friends with Emori and I wanted to get to know you. You're a catch. And I'm not that much younger than you."

"You definitely are."

"I'm mature for my age." 

He says it like a joke, but he kind of is. "And Madi?"

"There's a few steps between dating and co-parenting, but I have experience with this age range. And I like Madi. She's not a deal-breaker." He gives her a squeeze. "Sorry for telling you like that. In front of her."

"I'll live. It was sweet." She exhales. "You really want to do this?"

"You never asked," he teases, gentle. "If I thought you'd say yes I would have asked you to dinner after the first night."

"I haven't done this a lot. I needed some time."

"But you're good now?"

She twists around in his arms so she can kiss him, and his response, warm and immediate and eager, soothes some of the nerves still fluttering in her stomach. 

"Good for now. And I do--I want to try. But I might still be kind of a mess."

"I figured. I might actually know more about having functional relationships than you do."

She laughs. "You might, yeah. Think you can show me the ropes?"

"Yeah," he says, smile almost blinding. "I've got you."

*

They decide to wait to tell Madi until summer, when things are a little more settled. Bellamy has been looking for jobs in commuting distance, but he ends up finding a position without much trouble at the high school where Madi will be in a few years. Between that and the end of his stint as Madi's coach, to say nothing of the general success of their relationship, even Clarke has trouble coming up with reasons not to tell her. And she does want to.

"I don't even think she'll be upset," she admits. Madi is at camp, so she and Bellamy are just hanging out on the couch, all comfortable intimacy. His new job doesn't start until July, so they've had some time to themselves, and Clarke is going to miss it when he's gainfully employed. But at least it won't be a secret anymore. "I don't know why I'm nervous."

He kisses her shoulder. "How was it when you introduced her to Lexa?"

"Completely different. She was six, so it was--I told her we were friends, and then that we might try to date and she just went along with it. She didn't really get most of what was happening."

"Well, you know she likes me. Honestly, I was worried she had a crush on me for a while. I was so fucking glad when you said she wanted to set us up."

"Because you were into me," she says with a smirk, and he shakes his head.

"Yeah, obviously. You were the only one who didn't know that. It's not like I was trying to hide it."

It's still a little much, how much he likes her, overwhelming and hard to believe, but she's getting used to it.He knows what he's getting into and he still wants to be there. He still wants her, and every day it feels like less of a miracle.

It still feels like a miracle that she gets it, that everything somehow worked out, but she thinks that's okay. It's nice to be thankful.

"I know. And Madi knew, so--she'll be happy," she says, like she can will it to be true.

"She will." He squeezes her shoulders. "Are you sure you don't want me to be here?"

"Yeah, I think it needs to be just us."

"I get that. Just--call me as soon as you're done."

"I will, don't worry."

He leaves an hour later with a lingering kiss, and Clarke does her best to get some work done as she waits for Madi to get home. It really won't be that bad, she knows. Madi is newly twelve and enamored of her own maturity; she'll be excited to have an adult conversation, especially one where she gets to be right because she thought Clarke and Bellamy should date.

Still, Clarke has to take a deep breath as soon as she hears, "Mom, I'm home!"

"Hey! I'm in the living room."

She tromps in, all smiles, and flops onto the couch. "We won Capture the Flag. I was the tactician. I might be a strategic genius."

"Congratulations, I'm glad." She clears her throat. "I want to hear all about it, but I need to talk to you about something first."

Madi straightens up immediately. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, it's actually good news. I'm dating Bellamy." Madi gives her a blank look, and Clarke remembers to clarify, "Coach Blake."

"Wait, seriously? I thought he was in love with someone else! I felt so bad for you. What happened?"

"Honestly? When he said he was interested in someone, he was talking about me. That was him telling me he liked me."

"Did you know?"

"I was pretty sure."

"So have you guys been dating this whole time?"

"It's just been a couple months," says Clarke, which is mostly true. They certainly weren't dating before that. "And it's not like I have much time to date, I don't see him more than once a week or so. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner," she adds. "I just--we wanted to make sure it was real, and I didn't want it to get weird with your softball team, and--"

"Mom," she says. "It's okay. Breathe."

"I've been kind of worrying," she says, with half a smile.

"I figured, yeah. I get why you wanted to wait to tell me, I know you haven't dated since Lexa. Plus it was my idea, so--"

That makes her laugh. "It wasn't your idea. I liked him before you even knew he existed."

"You did?"

"Yeah, from when I met him in the bar. But I didn't think he'd be interested in me."

"But he totally is."

"He totally is."

"And you're good?"

"Yeah."

"Cool. So--what now?"

"I was thinking he could come over for dinner."

"And maybe watch a movie?"

"I think he'd be good with that. But--one last time. Are you sure you're okay with this? You don't have to be."

"If I'm not, I'll tell you. But yeah." She smirks. "I _knew_ you guys would be good together."

Clarke's still working on believing that part too, but it's getting easier every day. Every minute, really. "We are, yeah. Go get the ground beef out of the freezer, okay? I'll call Bellamy."

Madi scampers off and Clarke gives herself a minute to just breathe, soaking in relief and contentment and just a little bit of chagrin because it was fine, of course it was fine, of course Madi was happy for her and understood. She's got a good kid and a good boyfriend, and it still feels like kind of a cliched way to resolve her dissatisfaction with her social life, but it's hard to care. Besides, Bellamy has friends too, not just Murphy and Emori, but Gina and her mechanic boyfriend, his classmates from grad school. She's getting a whole social circle, and as long as she doesn't fuck it up with Bellamy, she should be able to keep them. It's not a total fix, but it's definitely a great start.

Thirty-four is good, but if she plays her cards, right, thirty-five will be even better. Things are really looking up.


End file.
